


feel me coming close

by abyssalgreen



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1389004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyssalgreen/pseuds/abyssalgreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian crashes a NYADA house party and happens upon the newly revered and idolized Kurt Hummel. Written for <a href="http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/48822.html?thread=62394294#t62394294">this GKM prompt</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	feel me coming close

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the (only slightly spoilery) episode summary for the unreleased episode 5.16 "Tested," which you can [read here](http://daxterdd.tumblr.com/post/81036965441/5-16-extended-summary-credits) if you'd like. This should make sense without it, but the summary did inform the story in a big way, so it's worth looking at if you're not staunchly anti-spoiler. 
> 
> SPOILERS: There's a warning also for a quick unkind comment made about Blaine by a random character, as inspired by the above summary.

It only took Sebastian a few solid months into his first year at NYU to figure out that crashing NYADA house parties was the most effortless way to ensure regular, assisted orgasm.

NYU had its gay social circles, yes, but they seemed populated predominantly by bedraggled radicals incapable of achieving erection without listening to the nasally, self-important sounds of their own political ramblings for no less than two hours first. Sebastian had no time for that shit.

The bar and club scene was of course wide-ranging, but after an encounter with someone Sebastian retroactively realized had likely been underaged, Sebastian had thought it best to limit himself to college parties where he could fairly confidently assume everyone was _at least_ in his own approximate age range.

So. NYADA gatherings it was. They involved far more impromptu _Rent_ singalongs than Sebastian found reasonable or necessary, but there was always drunken, twinky dick _everywhere_ , and these thirsty musical theatre dweebs all practically self-lubricated at the sight of Sebastian and his customary frat boy aesthetic. 

He’s making his way through one such crowd of theatre queens, red plastic cup filled to the brim with whiskey in hand, when he spots Antonio perched on the arm of a fluorescent yellow sofa. He’s found it useful to find an in with one of the more bearable sub-cliques, who provide valuable insight into crucial details such as who has poor hygiene, herpes, or a substandard cock. 

He confidently strides up to and leans against Antonio, nodding his head in greeting to the gaggle of chattering gays now surrounding him. They pay him little attention, which is a first, and Sebastian would be offended if not for the fact that their current line of conversation is piquing his own interests. 

“He positively _slayed_ his Mid-Winter Critique--"

“--heard he was the only person to receive a unanimous standing O at the close--”

 “ _So_ fucking gorgeous--"  

“Did you see him rocking those sai swords in Stage Combat on Thursday? Oh my god, his arms--" 

“I’m plotting to be paired up with him next, have an excuse to put my hands on that chest of his--”

“I heard him and his bloated flop fiancé had a gruesome break-up--”

Sebastian watches all of them go pink in the face as they unrepentantly gush and gossip away. Sebastian has never heard such full-hearted approval coming unanimously from the multi-headed lot of them.

“So, who is this you’re talking about? He sounds like the guy I’ll undoubtedly be spending the night with,” Sebastian interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest with a leer.

Antonio pipes up, a contemplative demeanor coming over his features. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Sebastian. I haven’t heard any reports of successful sexual propositions. I’m not even sure he’ll be here tonight. Rumor has it that Carmen Tibideaux has him on call so he can perform for her whenever and wherever she wills it.” 

Six pairs of eyes widen in impressed shock at the news. The chorus of acclaim threatens to bubble up again before Sebastian waves it off with a hand.

“I have zero idea what that means and even less desire to find out, but can you at least supply me with a name?”

He isn’t sure what he’ll even _do_ with a name, but he hasn’t seen this crowd go so moon-eyed over somebody since, well...since he _himself_ had started hanging around them. The unabashed desire weighing heavily under every syllable uttered in reference to this guy has Sebastian mimetically desiring him as well, this shadowy mysterious NYADA luminary. 

It’s one of the nameless lackeys who replies, eyes glimmering.

“His name is Kurt Hummel." 

The sentence comes out in a lusty exhale, like the feel of the mere _name_ on his tongue is comparable to the imagined feel of his dick. 

Once the moment properly registers, Sebastian laughs so violently he doubles over with the force of it. 

He looks up, clutching his chest and gasping between cackles. The near-identical mystified and slightly affronted looks on the seven faces staring down at him only sends him spiraling deeper into uncontainable mirth.

Kurt Hummel. They’ve been talking about _Kurt Hummel_. Sebastian can’t even believe he’s been trusting _this_ bunch to inform his sexual decisions for the past couple of weekends. 

“What the fuck, Sebastian?” Antonio is staring pointedly at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You know what? Don’t even worry about it. Thanks for the intel, I’m going to go find someone to rut against until I forget this conversation happened.”

He takes a stinging swig from his cup before walking away with a low snicker, eyes scanning the clumps of bodies littered across the space of the house. He makes contact with a pair of brown eyes attached to pronounced cheekbones and caramel-toned skin. Sebastian smiles warmly and corners him with a hand on his forearm and a sultry line about the shape of his lips against his ear. 

The man replies with a pleased smirk and a grasp on his hip, and Sebastian is thinking that this is shaping up to be his most successful hook-up in New York so far when he sees... _him_.

_Kurt Hummel_ , traipsing in through the entrance with an idle sway in his hips, body tightly bound within _exceptionally_ close-fitting black skinny jeans and a solid red short-sleeved button-down. Kurt notices the muted trill of excitement that electrifies the room at his presence, and he can’t quite contain the giddy rush that lights his face up at the registration of it.  

Two years ago, Sebastian would already have mentally compiled a list of no less than thirty-six ready-to-hurl insults at first _sight_ of Kurt’s bold entrance. Truth be told, he currently _does_ have some partially-formed ones ambling around his brain, but his instinct to verbally attack is being significantly blunted by an instinct to get this shiny new NYADA Kurt naked and wriggling beneath him. 

He wants to convince himself it’s only the infectious desire hanging in the air and his competitive nature that’s sending sparks of need tingling up his spine, but, honestly, Kurt looks fucking _good_. The bright red of his shirt is straining against the compact bulk of his chest and fitted comfortably around the inward swoop of his slim waist. The muscles in his arms and thighs are bulging enticingly and his legs are long, _long_ swaths of tight black denim. 

The hand at his hip squeezes intentionally, and Sebastian turns his attention back to the man before him, whose eyebrows are raised knowingly. He leans in close, lips ghosting against Sebastian’s earlobe. 

“Don’t bother with that one,” he murmurs bitterly, “he’s impenetrable.” 

Sebastian smirks at that, arousal intensifying at the way the word _impenetrable_ sounds snaking its way into his ear canal. 

He pulls away decisively, hot all over. “We’ll see about that.” 

Sebastian steps away with an almost-apologetic scrunch of the nose and a lingering hand on his arm, relocating himself to a shadowy corner perfectly suited for scheming purposes. 

He watches Kurt intently, noting the easy politeness with which he discourages any and all sexual suggestion. Sebastian always remembered him as ice cold and prudish, but there was a confident sensuousness to the way he carried himself now that promised some complexity and unpredictability in that regard. 

Sebastian was hot, even _hotter_ than he’d been last time Kurt saw him; plus, high school was long behind them, and they’d always had a certain chemistry blazing behind their razor-sharp hostilities. Sebastian feels fairly confident he has a real shot at cracking open this allegedly unyielding Kurt Hummel. 

He’s wondering how best to go about making his approach when Kurt spots him first and makes the decision for him, sauntering over with a renewed full-body wiggle that Sebastian wishes he could find it in himself to mock him for. Kurt stops in front of him, close. Surprisingly close. 

He smells like almond, somehow, sweet and nutty, and Sebastian wants nothing more than to bury himself in the recesses of his body that would smell that way most intensely. His skin looks white and bloodless in the dimness of Sebastian’s ill-lit corner, eyes bruise blue. He’s surveying Sebastian with remiss interest, the pink slant of his mouth tilting upward in sly amusement. 

“Sebastian Smythe. What a pleasure. Let me guess, you’re here cruising for your next sixteen-minute ride. Have you managed _already_ to work through the entire drunken male population of NYU?” 

Sebastian grins, teeth bared. There’s a playfulness to Kurt’s utterances here that were never really present in their conversations at the Lima Bean. Back then, there was too much at stake for him, and even his most masterfully deployed barbs had lost some of their impact in being supplemented by the tense crease of his forehead and the subtlest trembling of his hands. 

“You know, the NYU gay scene just wasn’t the space for me. Full of mangy self-righteous fucks who’d rather intellectually masturbate over abstract discussions of _queer assimilation_ and _the_ _importance of sexual unintelligibility_ than actually deal with the reality of their dicks and available orifices. Ugh. So far from being a thing worth my time.” 

Kurt purses his lips, skeptical. “And a NYADA house party full of musical theatre majors and Broadway geeks is... _more_ your thing?” 

“Hey, I did the show choir thing too, asshole. Unlike most of the people in this room, though, it just wasn’t the _only_ thing I did or _could_ do.” 

Kurt snorts, eyes narrow. He still looks like he’s trying to make sense of Sebastian’s presence here. Sebastian decides to make that easier for him.

“But I’m less interested in talking about what brought me here and more interested in talking about what I can do now that I am.”

Sebastian bites his lip wantonly, eyes purposefully moving up and down Kurt’s body. He tries not to roll his eyes when Kurt looks confused. He tries also not to take too much notice of the fact that what feels like a quarter of the people in attendance are not-so-subtly watching the two of them like ravenous vultures. 

“Let me be more clear,” Sebastian adds, helpfully, “I’m more interested in talking about _who_ I can do now that I’m here.” 

He runs his fingers slowly up the tender skin of Kurt’s inner wrist and forearm, feeling his heart rate quicken when goosebumps ripple up Kurt’s pale skin, nipples suddenly poking through the thin red fabric of his shirt. 

Sebastian runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, adrenaline spiking. He has _so_ got this. 

Kurt cranes his face even closer, voice low and vampish. “You’ll have to be clearer. Who _exactly_ are you interested in doing?” 

Sebastian leans in until the tips of their noses are literally brushing, fingers snaking up past the crease of Kurt’s elbow to his upper arm. “You, Kurt. I’m interested in fucking _you_.” 

There’s a charged few moments where they’re both breathing heavily, and then--

Kurt is backing away, head thrown back in open-necked, uproarious laughter. 

_What?_

“Oh my god, Sebastian. Did you actually think that would work on me? Does that work on _anybody_? Oh my god.” 

Sebastian is devastatingly aware of how fucking _loud_ Kurt is being. If only a quarter of the party was staring at them before, it’s got to be fucking _everybody_ now. Sebastian feels rage clawing its way up and out of his chest and seriously contemplates _forcing_ Kurt’s mouth shut before coming to the realization that he needs to say _something_ if he wants to salvage some sad scrap of his dignity. 

“It usually works on warm-blooded humans interested in having a quality lay, yes.” 

Kurt laughs again, patting Sebastian sympathetically on the shoulder. 

“Well, better luck with the next one. Don’t worry, there’s _got_ to be someone here drunk and desperate enough to be persuaded by the refined elegance of your courtship process.” 

With a final wink, he struts off, leaving Sebastian red-faced, furious, and uncomfortably aware of how many eyes are either still on him or tracking Kurt’s smug, retreating form. He catches the eye of the caramel-colored, high-cheekboned piece of arm candy he’d abandoned earlier, who gives him a sarcastic shrug. Sebastian flips him off and proceeds to chug what’s left of the drink he’s been clutching in his left hand. 

He spends the next hour or so stumbling aimlessly around the party, uninterested in engaging further contact with anyone but also unwilling to give anyone the pleasure of seeing him leave early, _especially_ Kurt. 

Sebastian is leaning against a cold wall by a bathroom, feeling sorry for himself with a fresh cup of jack and coke in hand, when he feels someone grab him by the wrist and drag him into the bathroom so forcefully he drops the entire cup onto the carpet just before he’s pulled into the beige tile of the bathroom and the door is closing shut behind him. 

“What the fu--”

Once the movement has all slowed down and he’s had a moment to re-orient himself to his surroundings, Sebastian is thrown all over again by the sight of Kurt _mere inches_ from his face, hips pressing him against the door as he carefully undoes the buttons of his own shirt, the parting red of the fabric contrasting brilliantly with the paper-white skin beneath it. 

“Kurt? What the hell--”

“Shhhh,” Kurt croons, pressing a finger against Sebastian’s gaping mouth. He’s made quick work of his button-down, which he’s now casually shrugging off and neatly folding onto the sink counter beside him. 

And, well, _wow_. Sebastian is still bewildered and pissed off but there’s this pale touchable expanse of unblemished _flesh_ before him, and he kind of just wants to put a hand on Kurt’s bare waist where it dramatically tapers in and gnaw on his collarbones while running a pair of fingers over his dusty-rose left nipple. 

But he won’t, because he might be slightly drunk and _very_ turned on but he’s also pissed the fuck off and Kurt needs to explain himself right the fuck _now_. 

“Explain yourself. Right the fuck now.” 

He grabs at Kurt’s wrist where it’s unbuttoning his jeans, because he’s never going to care enough to fight for an explanation once _those_ things are off. 

Kurt sighs. “What is there to explain, Sebastian? You said you wanted to fuck me, here I am, we have to hurry, people will notice if I’m gone for too long--”

Sebastian wraps an arm around his torso and another just under his (soft, round, _perky_ ) ass, lifting him up and onto the counter behind him. Kurt squeals in surprise but spreads his thighs once he’s seated so that Sebastian can settle comfortably between them, running his hands up and down Kurt’s smooth but faintly stubbly chest as he presses his mouth _finally_ against his. 

Kurt’s lips part beneath his mouth, tongue sliding against Sebastian’s own and _wait_ _what the fuck_ is that--

Sebastian pulls away for a moment, trying to peer inside Kurt’s mouth. 

“Ugh, god, Sebastian, it’s a tongue piercing, have you never kissed anyone with a tongue stud bef--”

Sebastian moves back in, eager to re-experience the foreign sensation of Kurt Hummel’s studded tongue, and he honest to god almost laughs at the utter ridiculousness of that thought. 

Once satiated, he moves down to Kurt’s neck, licking, nibbling, and _breathing in_ that nutty-sweet smell that had so enthralled him earlier. Kurt’s moaning, hands digging up beneath Sebastian’s shirt to grip tightly at the bare skin of his back, and ugh, fuck, he needs to get his shirt off, get Kurt’s pants off, needs Kurt’s dick in his hand or in his mouth or _somewhere_ \-- 

He’s distracted, suddenly, by the thrashing movement of Kurt’s legs where they’re flailing around his hips. He pulls off of Kurt’s neck with a pop, quietly admiring the saliva-slick patches of red he’s left behind before moving his hands around Kurt’s thick, firm thighs. 

“What are you doing with your legs?”

“With my--? Oh, I don’t know, I just sort of kick them when I get excited, it’s a thing I do, don’t worry about it--” 

“It’s distracting,” Sebastian whispers, moving the attentions of his mouth to Kurt’s right nipple, humming as he feels it stiffen under the firm licks of his tongue. 

“Unghh... _god_....we should...ungh...pants....hurry--”

Sebastian reluctantly pulls away with a final, teasing swipe of the tongue. 

“Fine, you have to take those pants off yourself though, I feel like I’m going to peel your skin off _with_ them if I attempt it, they’re so tight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kurt’s trying to sound bored and above it all, but he’s flushed all over, eyes blown out, chest heaving, and cock bulging out as far as it can through the material of his jeans. “Ugh, this won’t be dignified, there’s a lot of shimmying and flailing, turn around for a second---and get _your_ clothes off too.”

Sebastian complies with his request for whatever reason, turning to the side; pulling off his shirt, pants, and briefs and tossing them thoughtlessly onto the covered lid of the toilet a few feet away from him. Kurt, apparently finished, taps him on the shoulder and gently turns him around again with an impish grin on his face, naked save for a pair of bright blue briefs that his erection looks ready to rip through. 

He noses at Sebastian’s neck, and Sebastian feels sparks of pleasure running up and down his spine as blood rushes straight to his crotch. 

Kurt guides Sebastian roughly against the wall, dropping to his knees and wrapping a hand around Sebastian’s now-fully-erect dick. Sebastian stares down as Kurt inspects the area carefully, moving forward to give the head a tentative lick. 

“Kurt, oh god, fuck, please--”

“If you thought the stud felt good against your _tongue_...” 

“Oh my god Kurt please just--- _fuck_!” 

Kurt sinks down, taking nearly the full length of Sebastian’s cock into his mouth, moving up and down and pressing his tongue insistently up against the underside of the shaft, the smooth metal ball adding a whole new dimension of sensation amidst the hot wet sucking bobbing rhythmic-then-arrhythmic movement of Kurt’s mouth. 

Sebastian’s groaning so loudly he thinks the sounds can probably be heard over whatever miserable fucking show tune is currently being drunkenly warbled out just outside.

He hazards a peek downward again, and the sight of Kurt’s screwed-shut eyes and hollowed-out cheeks moving cleverly over his cock and back again threatens to send him over the edge. He moves a hand down to the nape of Kurt’s neck, scratching at the hairline there and throwing his head back when Kurt moans around him in response. 

“Agh, Kurt, fuck, I’m close--”

Kurt speeds up as he moves a hand up to cup Sebastian’s balls, the soft, slow strokes of his thumb working in tandem with the breakneck momentum of his head as he sucks hard hard _hard_ and presses his tongue _up_ and Sebastian is coming so fucking hard that he’d probably collapse right onto his ass if not for the steady support of the wall behind him. 

He manages one last groan before sagging backward onto the wall, sweat running down his neck as he gasps desperately. 

“Fuck, Kurt, that was...”

Kurt’s standing up, panting and pink all over and wild-eyed, licking his swollen lips as he moves Sebastian’s hands towards the waistband of his briefs. 

“Sebastian, please,” Kurt’s voice is throaty, wavering, and _needy_ , so Sebastian pulls the briefs down without any further hesitation, letting them drop to the floor and watching Kurt gracefully step out of them. 

His cock is long and weirdly elegant and pink-red at the tip. Sebastian bites his lip at the sight of it, pressing open-mouthed kisses against Kurt’s sharply-defined jawline. 

“What do you want?”

Kurt moans. “Oh, oh god, could you -- um, do you think you could -- finger me? I, um, showered fastidiously, I promise--”

Sebastian half-chuckles, half-whimpers. “Oh my fucking god Kurt, yes, fuck, here, let me--”

He turns Kurt around, noting what looks like a text tattoo on his shoulder blade, which he wants to ask about now that he’s orgasmed and is feeling a little more capable of communication, but Kurt is hard and aching so he moves to the task at hand, bending Kurt over the counter. 

“I have lube in the pocket of my jeans, one second.”

Sebastian moves to where he’d tossed his clothes onto the toilet lid, locating the small bottle after a few moments of fumbling. He uncaps the lid and generously coats his index and middle fingers before dropping the bottle onto the floor.

He moves back toward Kurt, groaning at the sight of his round ass before him. He spreads his soft cheeks with the hand not currently dripping with lubricant, staring hungrily at the crevasse there revealed.

Sebastian rubs gently at Kurt’s small hole with a finger, feeling it clench and unclench beneath his fingertip. Kurt’s face is plastered against the countertop, mouth open as a string of _oh_ s and _oh god_ s tumble out of his mouth. 

“Good?” Sebastian asks, eyeing Kurt carefully.

“Yes. Yes. Don’t stop. Please -- more.”

Sebastian works the rim with his fingertip for a few more seconds before slipping his index finger in to the second knuckle.

“Is that okay?" 

“Yes, it’s fine, it’s great, _fuck_ , more.” 

Kurt’s back is arching, ass lifting as his legs spread further apart. Sebastian pushes the entirety of his finger all the way in, exhaling at how tight and warm Kurt feels clamped around him. 

“I’m going to slip one more in, okay?”

Kurt makes an incomprehensible noise of affirmation in response, breathing hard. Sebastian can see his arm moving back and forth at a leisurely pace as he jerks himself off with breathy moans. 

Sebastian pulls his index finger out, rubbing Kurt’s back when he makes a muffled squealing noise. He slides his index and middle finger in just slightly, meeting some resistance before Kurt bears down and opens up. Sebastian shoves both fingers in as far as they’ll go, relishing the sound of Kurt’s strangled yelp. 

Sebastian starts fucking his fingers in and out of Kurt’s hole in earnest, staring eagerly down at where his digits are disappearing into Kurt’s ass, re-emerging, and receding from view again. 

He’s never done this before, fingered someone just for the fuck of it, and he can’t even believe how fucking hot it is. Kurt is alternating between guttural grunts and high-pitched breathy sounds that are making Sebastian’s cock stir again. Kurt’s jerking himself off furiously, his whole body jolting rhythmically with the force of it, and Sebastian meets his frenzied pace with a frantic pumping motion of his own, fingers working in and out and in again until Kurt is coming with a faint shriek and Sebastian’s name on his tongue. 

Kurt slumps forward onto the counter, wheezing heavily and whimpering slightly. 

Sebastian gives Kurt a second before slowly pulling his fingers out, giving Kurt’s left ass cheek a playful smack with his one non-lubed hand. 

“Wow,” Kurt says weakly. 

Sebastian smiles, pleased with himself. “See? I told you I was a quality lay.”

Kurt giggles a little guiltily, still pressed against the counter. “I’m sorry I laughed at you. I just saw your stupid arrogant assfuck face and wanted to regain some of the power you took from me in high school.” 

“Hm. Well. I’m pretty sure everyone in a sixteen-mile radius knows what just happened in this bathroom, so I’m not too bothered by it right now.” 

Kurt covers his face with his hand. “Oh god.” 

Kurt gets up finally, leaning against the edge of the counter with shaky arms. “Agh, fuck, I need to clean up. Get dressed and walk out before me, it’ll be marginally less shameful if we at least exit separately.”

Sebastian chuckles, running his hands under the faucet with soap before drying off with a towel and slipping back into the clothes he’d discarded. 

Kurt watches him dress without making a move, gnawing on his lower lip contemplatively. 

“You know, Sebastian, if you wanted to...do this again, I’d be...cool with that.”

Sebastian freezes for a moment. Kurt immediately senses his trepidation and is quick to correct himself.

“I don’t mean, like, romantically or anything like that, but if you wanted to be, I don’t know, acquaintances who occasionally--”

“Finger each other?”

Kurt snorts. “Yes. We could be that. Or not. Whatever. Forget it.” 

“No, that sounds...you know. Maybe. There are things I am a little curious about. Like the tongue stud and what looks like a tattoo on your back.”

Kurt smiles, a little shyly. “Ah! Both gratifying stories. Okay. Well. You’re dressed and look...moderately presentable, so get out.” 

Sebastian rolls his eyes. He kisses Kurt on the cheek with an obnoxiously loud smack, grinning when Kurt pushes him away.  

“‘Till later then, Mr. Hummel.”

He can practically hear Kurt roll his eyes as he steps out of the bathroom, closing the door carefully behind him and narrowly avoiding stepping in the wet spot his drink had caused when Kurt manhandled him away. 

He turns a corner and feels just about every pair of eyes in the room on him. He winks salaciously at that smug fucker who’d spewed all that nonsense about _impenetrability_ and given him that ironic ass shrug, and struts toward the exit feeling every inch the superstar this crowd imagined Kurt to be. 

 


End file.
